Life Supplements

He suffered from insomnia too. Unlike Lu Zhao, his was an aftereffect of the war.

"I'm planning to transfer to the convalescent home. When are you planning to retire?"

Lu Zhao leaned against the window frame of the guardroom. The old soldier opened his eyes a crack and asked in a cold, hard voice, "Who's taking over for you?"

"It hasn't been decided yet. They'll pick one of three: Qin Ze, Liang Fei, or Zhang Yanfeng."

"Big ambitions, little talent; forgets the greater good for petty gain; and too green to be reliable."

"I like the sound of that. What about you?" Lu Zhao asked again. "I'm moving on. How much longer are you planning to stay in this guardroom? With your record, you should have gone to the convalescent home ages ago."

Old Niu was a veteran of the War to Defend the Country and should have been conscripted in the same batch as Lu Zhao's father.

"Look at you, lecturing me. Haven't you stayed here too?"

Old Niu gave a disdainful chuckle. "Half these old bones were buried in that war already. The other half is fine right here. If I leave this post, I'll have even less chance of sleeping through the second half of the night."

"At least I can wake up when I doze off here. Lying in bed at a nursing home, tubes stuck all over me, waiting for some young girl to change my diaper-that would be a living hell."

Lu Zhao was silent for a moment. He could "smell" Zhang Laoniu's spirit.

He was walking on a narrow bridge called the "battlefield," trembling with fear at every moment. In truth, he was only one step away from the ground, yet he still refused to come down.

All Lu Zhao had to do was give him a gentle push with his mental power, and he would land.

The next second, Zhang Laoniu's eyelids began to droop. His head dipped, and he fell fast asleep on the desk.

"All this time, you've been able to sleep thanks to me. If you don't go to the convalescent home, you won't be able to sleep anymore."

Lu Zhao returned to his dormitory, his steps a little unsteady.

The room was completely empty. He had painted the walls, the floor, and even the few pieces of furniture white.

This was a mental palace of Lu Zhao's own creation, used to anchor his spirit and counter the chaos of his mental world with ultimate emptiness and simplicity.

He stripped away everything that could inspire warm feelings. A spirit of steel needed fire to temper it.

That was why Lu Zhao had never thought he should kneel. Stubbornness was closer to steel than being tactful.

He closed his eyes and lay down on the hard bed board. Compared with the shrieking of his spirit, physical discomfort was more helpful in getting him to sleep.

Breathe, and breathe again...

He did not know how much time passed before he sank once more into the quagmire of his mental world.

A physician could not heal himself. He could briefly calm the old soldier's spirit, but he could not help himself face the assaults of his own mental world.

In the past, he had chosen to close his eyes and let the chaotic mental tsunami pour down like collapsing mountains, drowning him in every delirious whisper, every piece of filth, and every scrap of despair.

He waited until his consciousness blacked out completely. That was the only brief rest he could get.

Now Lu Zhao had to move forward, holding his clenched fists out in front of him as he advanced steadily and resolutely.

He would no longer drift with the current and sink. He would cross the quagmire of his mental world.

He needed a beam of light to pierce the night.

On the other shore lay the power that could free him from his plight and bite through his shackles.

Suddenly, the scene before him opened up. The sky was clear, the earth empty, and the four directions stretched to their limits. This was Primordial Unity.

The old Daoist sat cross-legged in the center, like an exiled immortal in the mortal world.

He opened his eyes, surprise and astonishment showing in them, followed by a trace of appreciation.

"Layman, your Dao heart is steadfast. You truly have the makings of an immortal."

Mental world, Primordial Unity.

The old Daoist smiled. "I thought you would need some time before you could sense this realm of Primordial Unity again, layman. I never expected it to be only a day."

His praise was plain in his words. Being able to enter Primordial Unity was already a sign of extraordinary talent. Now it seemed Lu Zhao surpassed even that, with a gift greater than his own in his youth.

Lu Zhao felt the tranquility around him, and his taut spirit gradually relaxed.

The cold hardness he had shown while fighting the mental quagmire faded. He bent at the waist and bowed to the old Daoist.

"Thank you for imparting your teachings and the Dao, Daoist priest. I would not dare delay."

He did not know the precise posture or taboos involved in an ancient cupped-fist salute. Rather than risk making a mess of it, a bow was more straightforward. The form might be lacking, but the sincerity was there.

"You are too kind, layman." The old Daoist demurred, but made no attempt to hide the happiness on his face.

"You reached Primordial Unity entirely through your own abilities. Though this humble Daoist has lived a few more years, I merely followed the Heavenly Dao and did a little to guide you."

Lu Zhao considered how to repay him, then decided to treat him with sincerity.

Being too calculating would only be a lesser approach. The man was an immortal figure who had lived for five hundred years; they were never on equal footing to begin with.

He came straight to the point. "I would like to take you as my master, Daoist priest."

A brief silence fell. Then the old Daoist broke into a long, hearty laugh that shook the courtyard, his voice roaring like a tsunami.

"You have the heart to seek the Dao, layman, and this humble Daoist also wishes to pass on the flame and spread the Dao lineage. But the affinity between us has not yet ripened."

Lu Zhao's talent was excellent, and he was also the old Daoist's only choice at present.

Lu Zhao's wish to become his disciple in recognition of his teaching was also perfectly sincere, but the old Daoist felt the time was not yet right. Some things were better not decided too easily.

Lu Zhao was taken aback, a trace of bewilderment passing through his eyes.

He had considered that the old Daoist might refuse, but did this count as a polite refusal?

The old Daoist seemed able to see into his heart and reassured him, "The affinity will come in time, just not now."

Lu Zhao was decisive and immediately cast aside his distracting thoughts.

Since the old Daoist had said outright that the time was not right, he was not merely putting him off. Lu Zhao disliked being left in a passive state of uncertainty and was more accustomed to earning value through action.

He continued, "I can't accept a reward without contributing. Is there anything I can help you with, Daoist priest?"

The old Daoist asked, "I have been alone for five hundred years and know nothing of the outside world. Tell me about the Divine Land as it is now, layman. Which descendant of the Zhu family sits on the throne of our dynasty today?"

A strange look crossed Lu Zhao's face. The Daoist priest is quite loyal to the Zhu family. Even after five hundred years, he still thinks they could be in power.

He answered, "Daoist priest, Great Ming has already fallen. It's the Yan Federation now."

The old Daoist was visibly taken aback.

But he did not grow agitated as Lu Zhao had expected. His eyes merely stirred slightly, like a drop of water falling into an ancient well, before becoming calm again in an instant.

The old Daoist slowly spoke:

"Qin unified the world, yet fell after only two emperors. Mighty Han endured for hundreds of years, but could not escape falling apart. Even Great Tang, glorious at its height, ultimately returned to dust."

There was a trace of faint helplessness in his tone, but not the slightest fanatical attachment to the Zhu Ming Dynasty.

This old Daoist, who had once risen and fallen in the imperial court, understood the iron law of history: what rose swiftly could fall just as suddenly.

The fall of Great Ming astonished him, but it was not beyond his acceptance.

"Dynasties rise and fall like the tides. It is simply the way the Heavenly Dao works. Five hundred years have passed, and Great Ming's fortune has run out. That too was fate."

"This humble Daoist has failed to see the forest for a single leaf."

The old Daoist's pragmatism and clear-sightedness instantly dissolved Lu Zhao's stereotype.

People of ancient times were never foolish. They merely walked beneath different wheels of history.

Chapter 8: Life Supplements

Then the old Daoist asked again, "Who is the emperor of the Yan Dynasty?"

Lu Zhao answered, "There is no emperor in the current dynasty."

"Is the realm still unsettled?" The old Daoist seemed certain of it. Smiling again, he asked, "Do you have any ambition to claim the throne, layman?"

When Lu Zhao heard this, his first reaction was not to consider claiming the throne. Although he was theoretically qualified, it was still far too distant.

He was more concerned with another question: what did equality for all and democracy mean to a person from ancient times?

After gathering his thoughts a little, Lu Zhao explained, "The current dynasty was founded by the people, and its leader is chosen by the people for a term of six years. So there is no emperor."

The old Daoist blinked. Lu Zhao blinked too.

The two were silent for a moment.

"Absurd!"

For the first time, the old Daoist's voice rose and fell with emotion.

Even though he understood the rise and fall of dynasties clearly, this concept of a "country without a ruler" was entirely beyond his understanding.

"The succession of the throne concerns the stability of the state. How can the supreme authority under heaven be treated as a game and decided by election?"

"If it is not passed down from generation to generation to secure the foundations of the country, then whenever a new term begins, won't ambitious rivals rely on their armies to assert their power? Wouldn't the world be thrown into chaos every six years?"

The old Daoist pressed him with question after question, speaking with uncharacteristic speed and an almost instinctive resistance.

"Commoners are born among the people in the streets. Their eyes see no farther than a few yards, and their ears can scarcely hear beyond their own county. Their only concerns are food and clothing. How could ordinary folk know the lofty affairs of the court? How could they understand the interests of the world?"

Lu Zhao listened quietly until the old Daoist had finished, then answered in a clear voice, "Daoist priest, times have changed. In today's Yan Federation, everyone can read and write, understands literature, and knows the law. I wouldn't dare say they all have the abilities of a licentiate or a student candidate, but they are not ignorant."

In a longitudinal comparison from a historical perspective, a modern person who had completed compulsory education was equivalent to a clerical official in ancient times, while someone who could enter a key university was equivalent to a student candidate.

Education determined the lower limit of a person's abilities. Modern people were "smarter" than ancient people and could support a system of popular elections.

Lu Zhao explained everything to the old Daoist, from the education system to the selection and promotion of talented officials in the new era.

The more the old Daoist heard, the more silent he became.

He had begun by condemning it as absurd, then moved on to objections, before finally falling silent and thinking.

Following Lu Zhao's explanations, he came to understand this "country without a ruler" step by step, from universal education to the system for selecting, evaluating, and promoting officials in the new era.

Once he had a general understanding, the old Daoist began asking questions.

He was no longer simply rejecting it, and his questions often went straight to the central contradictions.

First: If power was not inherited by bloodline and all the people supposedly chose their leaders, had the powerful families and nobles of the new dynasty disappeared? Even if a commoner's child had talent and learning, could they enter government without money to pave the way or a noble's recommendation?

Second: Appointed officials had no great families as a foundation, and titles were not inherited in perpetuity. Would they be even more eager to embezzle and amass wealth, using their offices for business?